


shreds of shadow

by heartofstanding



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dark Thoughts, Gen, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-28 05:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17781143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartofstanding/pseuds/heartofstanding
Summary: Kili awakes after being healed and struggles to understand why Thorin left him.





	shreds of shadow

When Kíli wakes, he is warmer, the deep chill that has lingered in his bones since their escape from the dungeons of the Elven-king has vanished, or near enough. His breath comes easier, the numbness on his left side is gone and the pain like bitter poison is all but disappeared. He thinks, for a moment, that in the morning, he may be well enough to get up the mountain without grimly pushing on. Then he remembers.

What had Thorin said? _Not you, you'll slow us down._ Meaning he was nothing more than a burden, even though he'd _tried_ so hard. Everything he's done, it's only added to the load everyone else is carrying. He's tried and tried and ended up forcing everyone to shoulder his weight. His eyes sweep from the ceiling to Fíli, standing at the kitchen bench and chopping up leaves under Óin's direction. Fíli should be with Thorin, should be at his side when Erebor is reclaimed, not left to take care of his _stupid_ brother. And Óin, what if something happened, what if someone – Thorin or Bilbo or _anyone_ – was hurt in the mountain, and they died because Óin was stuck here tending to Kíli?

Quickly, so quickly it makes his head spin, he jerks his eyes back up to the ceiling and bites his tongue until the threat of tears retreats. That's just what he needs, to be crying on top of being such a weak, stupid burden. For Fíli and Óin to fuss even more over him.

They should've left him. He should have never left the Ered Luin, stayed at his mother's side. He's been _useless_ on this journey, worse than useless. How, he wonders, didn't they see this – why did Thorin even let him come. It must have been Fíli, Fíli must have said something, laid a _both of us or none of us_ rule, and Thorin wanted Fíli by his side too badly to do the right thing, make Kíli stay behind.

The pain he thought was near-gone spears through him, and he only just manages to bite back a groan.

'Calm yourself,' a soft voice says in his ear, and he slits his eyes open to see Tauriel, her eyes concerned, but serene and knowing. How did she come here – why is she with him? Surely she could _see_ how weak he really was.

She brushes her fingers over his hand, the touch cool and light. 'Let go of your black thoughts. They are not real, just the last of the poison.'

He shakes his head, but before he can voice a protest, he hears Fíli speak his name, almost a shout, nearly a breathless exhalation, and a knife clatters on the ground. Then Fíli is there, laying desperate hands on his shoulders, his face, pressing their brows together. It's—

Fíli has always been one of those people, someone whose body makes kindness as easily as anyone else's body makes blood. Kíli's never had to beg for his brother's love, never felt it too much, but right now, it makes him feel smothered. Fíli's crying, murmuring an endless recital of Kíli's name and _I was so worried, so worried, please, not again, never again, Kíli—_

And it's too much, too much, Kíli's choking on it. His name should be a word that no one ever wants to say, but Fíli breathes it out as easily as any other word, as easily as air. It's not right.

'Fíli,' he says, pushing one hand into Fíli's hair. 'It's all right, I'm fine.'

Fíli nods shakily, draws back a fraction. 'Of course you are.' His voice is wobbly, but some of his old assurance comes creeping in as he manages a smile. Quickly, he scrubs at his face with an overlong sleeve and then leans back.

'Fíli,' Tauriel says, resting a hand on his shoulder, 'We will need a little more athelas – would you be able to—?'

'I—' Fíli looks between them, eyes wide, and Kíli _knows_ he doesn't want to leave, but believes he must. 'Yes.' Fíli nods firmly, 'Yes, yes, of course. What does it look like?'

+

Tauriel makes him sit up in the bed and drink water. He feels fine, really, apart from the realisation that he's little more than a burden, stupid and weak. Still, he's glad that Tauriel doesn't demand anything from him and just lets him be.

'Why did you come here?' As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets them. Spoken too quickly, almost desperately, with the desire to know that it was not because of him. Let him have that dignity, at least.

Her teeth dig into her lip, eyes staring at the wall behind him. There's a flash of something – anger? – in her eyes that makes him recoil, pressing himself firmly against the stack of pillows he's being propped up with.

'The King—' She stops, looks down at her lap, her hands neatly folded, 'My king, Thranduil. For as long as I have lived, he has always maintained the guard on the forest. The evil has grown, but he has always beaten it back.' She shakes her head. 'Yet today, the orcs crossed our borders, slew many of my kin, and he will do _nothing_. He will sit on his throne and _wait_ while the darkness grows deeper.'

She takes a breath, holds it stiffly inside and then releases it. 'Thirty orcs crossed our lands. I tracked them here, and when the sun is risen, I will continue my chase.'

'Oh,' he says, and feels even more stupid. 'Do you... do you know where they're heading?'

'Yes.' Biting her lips, she looks towards one of the windows, covered in the frost of a winter night. 'To the Mountain.'

There's more she wants to say, he knows it, but she smiles at him, her face losing the hard, sharp edges.

'But, tell me, why are you on your own – where is the rest of your kin?'

He feels himself scowling, doesn't want to be. It'll only mark him out as ungrateful, a fool who couldn't understand. 'Can't you guess? I was slowing them down.' He forces back another lot of tears that threaten to drown him, glances at Óin and Bofur who have managed to fall asleep, Bard's children keeping their distance, the littlest fighting to keep her eyes open. 'Óin stayed because it's his duty. Fíli's always looked out for me – Thorin probably only let me come because of him, though it would've been better if he hadn't.'

'But—' Tauriel shakes her head, takes his hand, holding it securely. 'I don't understand.'

Kíli shrugs, looks down at their linked hands. 'Thorin made it clear. I've been nothing but a burden.'

'No,' Tauriel says, quickly, with such fierceness that he looks up at her, eyes wide, 'You opened the gate, remember? If it hadn't been for you, you would have been returned to your cells, your company most likely short a few members.'

Again, Kíli shrugs. He thinks of shaking his head. 'Someone else would've done it, and they probably wouldn't have gotten themselves shot doing it.

Tauriel sighs, as if she knows the futility of arguing the point. She'll eventually realise the truth and won't waste her time on him anymore.

He sniffs, biting into his lip. 'I just wish I knew,' he says, 'What made Thorin change his mind.' At her look of confusion, he adds, 'He used to say nothing was more important than kin, but then he _left_ me and I wish I knew what I did that made him change his mind.'

With her free hand, Tauriel reaches out and strokes back his hair and she smiles, but it's soft and sad. 'Not everything can be traced back to one definable moment. It may not even be your fault. There are other forces in this world besides one's kin.'

Kíli nods slowly, stares at his lap, his legs spread out beneath an itchy blanket. He wants to say something, wants to find something meaningful to say, but all he can do is bite his tongue. 'But I want to understand, how he could do this, why I don't matter to him anymore.'

Tauriel shakes her head, cups his cheek. She doesn't look like she knows what to say, either, her eyes sad and faraway. But she wants to comfort him – she must be like Fíli, endless waves of compassion and kindness inside of her.

'Kíli,' and it's Fíli back, holding outstretched two handfuls of greenery.

Kíli quickly looks away, stuttering over himself in his attempt to backtrack. He doesn't want Fíli to _explain_ just how he erred so badly. 'I didn't mean it, I just—'

' _Kíli_. It's all right.' Fíli drops the herbs onto the bed, sits down next to him. 'Thorin's... I don't know.' He shrugs. 'It's not your fault. It's... Thorin. He changed his mind. He weighed us up and found us...' Fíli bites off his words, stares at the mattress. ' _Lacking._ All that matters to him is that damned mountain and all the gold that lies inside it.'

'Oh,' Kíli says, dull, but he's not sure he believes Fíli. He looks at Tauriel, but she's getting up, gathering up the herbs and the ground shakes, a sudden wind blowing. He looks up at Fíli, confused, waiting for an answer.

'In the morning,' Fíli says, quickly, 'We'll decide whether we want to go on to the Mountain. We don't have to. Not if there's nothing for us there.'

'You don't have to – not because of me.' Kíli knows he sounds desperate, reaching up to pluck at Fíli's hand.

'Of course it's because of you,' Fíli says, voice low, 'Thorin told me I was a fool to stay with my little brother, who was hurt, who is the dearest thing in my heart. Just because Thorin thinks your worth less than the contents of Erebor does not mean it is true. There is nothing for me in there if you are not at my side.'

At last, Kíli nods. He snags Fíli's hand, holds it tight to his chest. He understands, now, what has been wrought by his injury. He sees Tauriel by the bench, stripping the herbs Fíli has bought of their leaves, and she smiles at him. In the morning, when the sun dawns and the world seems clear, they will make new choices.'Thank you,' he breathes, 'Thank you.'


End file.
